


Loki's Queen

by xDariix



Series: Green [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jealous Loki, Jötunn Loki, Loki Angst, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Possessive Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDariix/pseuds/xDariix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You love him. No matter how much he hurt you, you love him. But you owe it to yourself to give Dylan a chance. So who should you pick? The man you've known since you were six, but abandoned you at eighteen? Or the man you met earlier this year in Bio class and beautifully clicked with?<br/>To top things off, an unexpected visitor shows up at your door. And he's not very happy...</p><p>A Reader x Loki fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unrest

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. Sorry, a thousand times sorry. I didn't mean to be away so long.  
> College started and I got side-tracked by billions of stuff. Then, when I returned to work on this, I realized that I had lost my muse, so I decided to procrastinate some more. And then someone found me on Tumblr and asked me if I'll ever finish this fic. And it made me realize how selfish I'd been so I got off my a$$ and forced myself to work through my writer's block and...well, here it is. The final part. This one's for that one Tumblr motivator (you know who you are) and to those who've patiently stuck around.  
> So if I have any readers left...I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the first chapter for you, dear readers!

It was quite a coincidence when his gaze fell upon Midguard. Or maybe it was the All-Mother’s spirit trying to tell him something.

It had been a day as any other. Heimdall stood stoically at the Bifrost, watching over the universe. Staff always at the ready; whether to ward off attackers or bring Thor home, should the prince call.

His gaze was directed towards Jotunheim, watching the large, blue race for any sign of further rebellion against Asgard. The All-Father was once again in Odinsleep and his subject grew nervous with every day that passed without his awakening.

But then, his eyes catch something.

He almost misses it, even with his superior gaze. It is a single silver orb.

Heimdall immediately recognizes it for what it is: the All-Mother. And she is at unrest.

It becomes easy to track once his eyes know what to see. He follows the light down towards Midguard and he wonders what could be so interesting going on in that place that had caught the All-Mother’s attention.

He watches the Prince and his companions travel in a metal box called a ‘car’, happier than ever. He watches the Man of Iron fiddle with one contraption or another while the Green Man idles nearby. He watches the Shield Man as he tries to find the man with a metal arm. He watches the Archer chase around his children in a large yard while his wife and the fearsome Spider Lady watch from nearby.

All of Thor’s allies seemed to be relatively safe. Nothing seemed to be the matter.

So what had awoken the All-Mother’s spirit?

Heimdall watches as the silver orb bypasses all of the team of Avengers and descends into a town a fair distance away from them. Into a house where a young girl was sitting at the table, eating.

He doesn’t notice the man beside her at first. Just the girl shoveling Midguardian food into her mouth like a heathen.

Then suddenly, she says, “Oh my God, can you _not_?” and turns to look at her companion.

“Still talk with your mouth full, I see.” A strange shadow replies and Heimdall couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

No.

It couldn’t be.

“Still obsessed with watching people eat, I see.” The young maiden speaks.

The shadow doesn’t reply and after a silence, the girl speaks again, “I wouldn’t have done it, you know.”

Heimdall watches the shadow move closer to the girl as she wipes down the bench, then that voice responds again. “Done what?”

The two of them have a heated conversation all the while Heimdall reels with shock.

He was supposed to be dead! Thor had confirmed this!

Oh…but those abilities of his…they could have played a huge part in this. How clever.

By the time he’s paying attention again, the young maiden is sleeping with her head on the shadow’s lap, while the shadow peppers her face in soft, gentle kisses.

That is what the All-Mother had wanted Heimdall to see.

Without any further prompts, Heimdall activates the Bifrost and calls home the Prince of Asgard.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Oh my God, shut up! I’m trying to think!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You can _hear_ Loki’s smirk. You ignore him and continue pacing your room, running your hand through your already disheveled hair. If you look in the mirror, you’re pretty sure you’d look like an electrocuted loon.

“Relax, love.” Loki tells you in a soothing voice. He’s seated primly on the edge of your bed, watching you pace with amusement.

You pause to stare at him like he’s a loon. “Relax.” You repeat in a deadpan. “Relax? Dylan knows about you and your little temper tantrum in New York and now he’s got some crazy motherly instinct to protect me. Which, you know, isn’t completely misguided, at all. But if he tells anyone, if word gets out that you’re not dead, guess who’s gonna show up at my doorstep? Your scary brother with the hammer! And he’s probably gonna take you away and I’ll probably never see you again and–and you want me to relax?!” By the end of your little freak-out session, you’re breathing hard and on the edge of hysteria.

“Yes, relax. You’re going to give yourself a brain tumor, love.”

“A, its a _neurysm_ , not brain tumor. And B, _you’re_ going to give me an aneurysm.” You snap at him and resume pacing the room like there’s no tomorrow. “This is _your_ fault, Loki. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Very much.” Is the smug reply.

“You’d better hope that Dylan hasn’t alerted the authority. If I get arrested…I’ve already missed out on enough college lectures as it is.” You run your hand through your hair again, then half-sob out, “Oh my God. I’m gonna fail all my classes! I’ve worked so hard…and for what? To drop down and roll over as soon as the going gets tough?!”

“(Y/N)…”

“Oh God, if I fail college, I’ve failed in life. I’m a failure. People will see me and go, ‘look son, there’s the failure’. People with tell stories about me. About the girl who failed. About the girl who couldn’t–”

Something hard bonks you on the back of your head, cutting your wild panic attack short. You turn your bewildered gaze to Loki, who’s raised an eyebrow at you and is looking at you without a single hint of shame. Then you look down at the object he’s thrown at you.

It’s a hairbrush.

You catch your gaze in the mirror and almost physically stumble backwards.

Looking like an electrocuted loon was not so far from the truth. You didn’t know your hair could stand up in positions like that.

With a scowl, you grab the hairbrush and start grooming your hair. “At least _one_ of us is having fun.” You mutter darkly under your breath as Loki openly laughs.

The doorbell rings, cutting your progress short.

“Oh my God, he’s here…!” You gasp out, then you turn to Loki, taking him by the shoulders and drag him over to sit on the edge of your bed. “You, stay here.” You order, “Don’t move.”

“As you wish, pet.”

“I mean it.” You tell him, “You move even an inch…and there’ll be hell to pay.”

Loki gives you a single nod, expression mocking.

“And I’ll revoke your cuddling rights.” You add, just for safe measure.

His smirk turns into a solemn frown and he nods again.

Satisfied, you exit your bedroom and go to the front door.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

When you open the door, a red rose is presented to you.

You bite your lip, but it isn’t enough to suppress the love-struck smile creeping up onto your face.

“Hey Dylan,” you say, accepting the rose and stepping aside to grant him entrance. “Come in. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll make us some refreshments.” You close the door behind him and make your way to the kitchen, where you swiftly whip up two coffees and grab some cookies from the sweets jar to place in a bowl.

You work your way to the lounge and set the tray on the coffee table. There’s a small silence where you both work on getting the sugar right for your coffees.

After a minute or two, Dylan finally speaks, “So…ah…about Loki…”

“Yeah…umm…you figured it out, huh?”

“So you knew.”

You shrug. “I did…but it’s not like I…assisted him or something.” You tell him, “He’d left long before that.”

“You’re still technically harboring a fugitive.”

“Did I mention that he’d been brutally tortured and forced to take over the world by an alien race?” You quickly add.

“Doesn’t bring back the people he killed.”

“Did I also mention that his father put him in jail and his brother broke him out and he had to sacrifice himself to save him?”

“How is he alive then?”

You pause. “He used a magic double…but that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is–”

“And I’m betting that that’s his handprint on your neck.”

Your hand goes to your neck and you narrow your eyes at Dylan. “Loki was very distressed when it happened and he couldn’t control his power when it happened.”

“The other day, when I asked you, you said it was your fault. And then you claimed that you’re not the victim.”

“Okay, shush. Let me speak.” You speak over him and he falls silent, eyebrows raised in amusement but his chocolate eyes glinting in concern. “It _was_ my fault.”

Dylan opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“No, listen. It _was_ my fault, because Loki had just discovered that the last eight thousand years of his life was a lie. His own father had lied to his face and then he came to see me. In this revelation, he couldn’t control his powers and when he realized what his touch was doing to me, he tried to back away. But I was all up in his face, trying to convince him that he’s not a monster and he…panicked.”

You inwardly wince at the half-truth. He had pretty much been choking you after losing control…

“Well, I’m not wrong about him being dangerous and unstable, am I?”

“He wasn’t himself and it was a one-time thing.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Well, it hasn’t happened again since.”

“Who’s to say it won’t?”

You sigh and rub your temples with a hand. Then you say quietly, “Because, Dylan, I know him. I’ve known him since I was six. And he’s never hurt me…unless you count that one time when I was eight and he unexpectedly tickled me and I fell off the bed and bonked my head and got a concussion…” you pause at Dylan’s shocked expression, “BUT…that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is when I was six, my parents hated me and my relationship with Kali was more of a mother-daughter relationship than anything. And I made a New Year’s Resolution to find me a friend and I got Loki…” tears unexpectedly spring to your eyes, but you force yourself to continue, “And I’m _not_ letting him go. So if you’re asking me to pick between you and Lo–”

“Whoa, whoa! Stop right there!” Dylan exclaims, almost spilling coffee all over himself with his uncoordinated flailing, “I am NOT asking you to pick. I would never do that. Good God, I’m not suicidal. I know who you’d pick!”

You shut your mouth. Then, offended, you shout, “You don’t know that!”

“Uh, A: yes I do know that and B: can I have more coffee? It’s really great!”

You blink a few times and take a look at the not-quite empty coffee mug Dylan is holding out towards you.

“Oh, sorry…” he says and gulps it down and holds it out again.

You roll your eyes and grab the mug from him. Dylan follows you to the kitchen and leans against the kitchen counter. The two of you fall into silence as Dylan watches you make another round of coffee while taking sips from your own mug every now and then.

You hear crunching and look up from the coffeemaker to see Dylan shoving cookies into his mouth like there’s no tomorrow and fail to stifle a giggle. Dylan gives you a close-mouthed smile, so none of the goodies fall out of his mouth.

“Thanks,” you say after a while, “For not making me pick.”

“It’s okay.” Dylan replies, “I’m just worried about you. And if you genuinely think that there’s nothing to fear from him, then…” he shrugs, “I guess I’ll just have to trust you. But…” he pauses.

“But what?”

“Well…he’s a bit deranged, isn’t he?”

“You think?” you say sarcastically. (You’re pretty sure you just heard an offended gasp from your room.)

“And…possessive or something…like…when I dropped you off the other day, he said something about cutting out my heart and giving it to you…”

Your mind instantly recalls the day before, when your head had been nestled in his lap and his lips had been pressed to your forehead as he had whispered, _“I’m not capable of love. But what I feel for you…(Y/N), it’s…intense. Sometimes, I want to take you away from the world and lock you away so no one could set their eyes on you. I want you for myself. I suppose it’s the closest to love I’ll ever feel…”_

You laugh nervously. “He was just exaggerating.” You say, “He’s very dramatic.”

“And in Norse Mythology, he’s pretty…crazy.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Like, murder-his-own-brother crazy.”

“Like, have-sex-with-a-horse crazy.” You agree wholeheartedly and the two of you laugh. (The gasp that came from your room sounded strangled and it’s a surprise that Dylan didn’t hear it.)

You turn off the coffeemaker and pour its’ content into the mug.

“So…um…you’re not…dating him…are you…?” Dylan asks.

You turn to face him. “Dylan, I love him.” you say, “I loved him when he wasn’t even a part of my life anymore. I loved him when I met you. I loved him when I started falling for you. And I loved him when we went on our first date.”

You move to him so that you’re staring directly at him.

“And a part of me always will always love him, no matter what. Because other than Kali and Grams, he was the only one in the world who cared about me. He’s immortal and he had a busy life in Asgard and he went out of his way to visit me, because he loves me too.”

You bring your hands up to place on his shoulders, while Dylan’s arms subconsciously wrap around your waist.

“But in his absence, I…realized how dependent I was on him, because when he left, I totally fell apart. And then I met you. And I really clicked with you and when we hung out, I had a lot of fun…”

You gaze into his honey colored eyes and bite your lips. Dylan’s eyes flick down to it and he licks his own.

“What I’m saying is…I like you. Like I really, _really_ like you. And I owe this to you, to me…to the both of us…to give us a chance.”

You wrap your hands around his neck and stand on your tippy toes and lean in until your lips are all but touching his. You pause.

“So?” You whisper, “What do you say?”

Dylan breathes out a laugh and tightens his grip around your waist. He pulls you to him and closes the last bit of distance between the two of you.

It’s the softest of soft kisses. Sweet and pure. And when you pull away, you want to cry.

…

Nothing.

You had felt nothing.

After all this build up between the two of you. All the shy glances, all the secret smiles, all the back-and-forth flirting…all of it…and…

No spark. No explosion…

…nothing…

You force yourself to keep your expression neutral, your hands subconsciously loosening their grip around Dylan’s neck.

Dylan’s eyes, meanwhile, searches yours, looking for an answer you weren’t sure you could respond with.

And then…

…

…

…

…your doorbell rings.

Dylan almost drops you, but he catches himself in time and allows you to regain your balance before releasing you. Then he jumps away from you like you’ve electrocuted him or something.

You ignore this in favor of going to check out your visitor.

Upon opening the door, you’re greeted by a muscular, metal torso and a flowy, red cape, one arm wielding a hammer and the other clenched tightly. When you look up, you see long, blonde hair and electric blue eyes that scream danger.

Wait.

Why would they scream danger?

Before you have the chance to back up, a totally-ripped arm reaches out and grabs you by the neck and lifts you into the air.

“Where is he? Where is my brother?” A deep voice commands. “Answer me! Where is Loki?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked.


	2. Odinson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I bring to you...Chapter 2!! I made up a whole bunch of stuff to fit it into the story, hope it doesn't bug anyone. It's also a little short and doesn't have much Loki...but you'll see more of him soon. So for now...enjoy, while I work on the next chapter!

When Thor agreed to go on a road trip with Jane, Erik, Darcy and Ian the intern to the Grand Canyon, he did not expect the car that they had squeezed into, to be taken from the roads by a multi-colored beam while driving at over 90 miles an hour.

“Rainbows are supposed to be nice!” Darcy manages to gasp out while Jane slams her foot on the brake pedal.

Upon landing, Thor immediately gets out of the metal box and strides purposefully towards the man responsible.

“Heimdall! What is the meaning of this?” He demands, anger evident in his voice, but Heimdall’s next words has the prince giving pause. “What did you say?”

“Loki lives.” The guardian repeats.

Thor’s own gasp of surprise is echoed by his four companions.

His brother? Alive?

“How do you know this?” Thor asks, “I thought you to be blind to his illusions.”

“I am.” Heimdall responds, slowly walking towards the end of the bridge to gaze upon the stars, “The All-Mother’s spirit guided me to Midgard, where he is residing with a woman. Even as we speak, he lies with her…”

Thor joins Heimdall at his post and follows his gaze, but his eyes see nothing but moons and stars. “A woman…?” he repeats.

Jane nervously edges forward, “How do you know it’s him?” she asks. “Thor and I were both there when he…he…”

“He died in my arms.” Thor finishes.

There is a moment of silence, where Thor silently mourns his brother. Then Jane repeats her question.

“Well…how _do_ you know it’s him?”

“I’ve known him for over 8 millennia, as I’ve known you, my Lord.” Heimdall replies, not a hint of doubt in his voice. “Although I may not be able to see him, his voice, his manner of speaking, it’s unmistakable.”

“You say my mother guided you?”

A nod.

“She must be trying to tell us something…” Thor murmurs softly, rubbing his chin. He gazes off into the distance, wondering what it could be. “The woman he’s with…do you sense anything from her?”

Heimdall tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brows, as if he was searching for a hint of deception in what he was seeing.

“No.” He says, “She appears to be Midgardian, barely two decades of age…but there seems to be an aura surrounding her…”

“Aura?” Darcy repeats, “Like something magical?”

“Call it what you will…” Heimdall says noncommittally. “She could be an enchantress, perhaps.” He murmurs, “Or maybe Loki has been frequenting her home. It could just as well be his aura that I am sensing.”

Thor scoffs. “Why would my brother visit a child?” he asks, then his tone goes bitter as he adds, “He holds no love for anyone but mother. And with her gone…”

“Yeah, my bet is on enchantress.” Darcy declares.

Ian the intern wastes no second to agree with her, love-struck fool that he is.

“Is there a way to prove that theory?” Erik asks, true scientist at heart. “She might just be an average woman.”

“Then what would Loki be doing there?” Thor counters. “He doesn’t concern himself with Midgardians affairs.”

“From what I saw, the two were rather intimate with each other.” Heimdall points out.

“A prostitute!” Darcy yells and everyone looks at her disapprovingly.

Then Thor resumes, “It’s no secret that Loki thinks of Midgardians as inferior. I doubt he’d–”

“Exactly.” Darcy cuts in, “And he’s going to what every man does when they–”

“He’s a specie-ist Darcy, not a misogynist.” Jane says in her I’m-trying-to-be-patient-with-you voice. She looks at Thor, “Look, we don’t know who…or _what_ she is. For all we know, she could just be an innocent.”

“Or an enchantress.” Thor adds in a dark voice.

“ _Or an innocent_.” Jane continues in a firm voice.

“Or a prostitute!” Darcy pipes in.

Jane sighs. “All I’m saying is, she could be anything. And until we know for sure, how ‘bout we give her the benefit of the doubt?

“Innocent until proven guilty.” Erik speaks wisely.

“Or guilty until proven innocent.” Darcy counters.

“Only one way to find out.” Thor declares and faces Heimdall. “Take me there.”

“Whoa there,” Erik says, “Just you?”

“Aye, just me.” Thor responds, “She could be innocent…or she could be dangerous. I will not put you in harm’s way, should it be the latter. You four are to stay here as guests until my return.” He nods once, leaving no room for argument. “Heimdall, open the Bifrost.”

The Guardian complies.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Your hands fly up to the fingers wrapped firmly around your throat and try to pry them off, vision already going black around the edges from the lack of oxygen entering your brain.

“Where is Loki?”

You vaguely take notice of Dylan shouting and trying to punch some sense into your attacker. In an attempt to ward Dylan off, the grip around unconsciously tightens.

“L…oki…” you gasp out and the next thing you know, you’re dropped onto the floor with a painful _crack_ coming from your ankle.

Coughing and gasping, you try to get some air into your lungs, while your head throbs madly and the world goes mute around you. You force yourself to sit up and look around. Everything is spinning and you’re pretty sure you’re seeing double, so you blink a few times to adjust your vision, but to no avail.

“(Y/N)…?” You hear Dylan call out. His voice seems pained as well, so he must have taken a hit too.

“I…I’m o…kaaayy…” You rasp out, the choking already taking its toll on your voice.

“You don’t sound it.”

As your vision slowly adjusts, you take note of Dylan on the ground nearby, cradling what seems to be a broken wrist. A couple of feet away from you, Loki and your attacker – whom you now believe to be his brother, Thor – are having a scuffle by the entrance. And loath are you are to admit it, Thor seems to be the better fighter, so you decide to interfere. You grab the first thing your hands can find, and lob it at Thor.

It’s Dylan’s coffee mug. And with your throbbing head and distorted vision, you miss by a mile. Instead, it hits the wall nearby and shatters on impact.

It may have missed your target, but it still has the effect you had been aiming for.

Silence falls across your apartment as Loki and Thor stop fighting to look at you.

“Umm…I…I think I need to go to the hospital…” you mumble, words slurring together.

And that is the last thing you remember, before your vision fades and you collapse back onto the ground as both Loki and Dylan call out your name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if I've made any mistakes or if you'd like to see another fic from me in the future.


	3. All That Is Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no excuse. Just lost my inspiration.  
> Most heartfelt apologies to you all.  
> I'll try my best to finish it off before 2017.

“I’m seriously like one of your biggest fans, but…oww…”

“My most sincere apologies, young Midgardian.”

“What is your face made of? Like, metal?”

“Asgardian bones are denser than Midgardian bones. Although I can’t say much for their brains. It’s barely larger than their eye.”

“That was uncalled for, brother.”

“Do not call me that.”

As you slowly gain consciousness, the first thing you notice is that the throbbing in your throat, but for some reason, there is no pain; only weird numbness. And judging by the familiarity of the pillow your head is on, you’re pretty sure that you’re in your room. Though you’re not sure how.

The next thing you notice are the hushed voices of Loki, Dylan and Thor.

“What about the um…blue species…?” Dylan asks awkwardly, “Are they like…dense-bodied too?”

“I believe the term you’re looking for is Jotunns.” Loki corrects him, “And yes, Jotunn bodies are superior to pathetic mortals such as yourselves.”

There’s a smirk in Dylan’s voice when he says, “So is (Y/N) a pathetic mortal too?”

Loki remains silent, while Thor speaks, “Ah, so she _is_ mortal…”

“Why, could you not sense her mortality when you had her by the neck?” Loki snaps.

Oh…right. Thor had lifted you into the air, partially strangling you in his rage.

“She was surrounded by your magic. I assumed she was an enchantress…” Thor replies, then adds in a small voice, “Although, I was warned by my companions not to jump to conclusions or do anything brash…”

Loki hears it though, and jibes, “They must not be close friends then, if you’re willing to discard their advice so readily.”

“Have care, brother, of how you speak of my beloved.”

“Your beloved? That would be the same Midgardian whore that slapped me, would it not?”

“You speak of Midgardians as if they’re below you–”

“They are.”

“…And yet you lie with one!”

“I do not _lie_ with (Y/N).”

“But you _do_ love her, do you not?”

Loki audibly snaps his mouth shut.

There is so much tension in the air, you’re pretty sure you could cut it with a knife. Thankfully, Dylan wisely decides to change the subject. “So…how many alien species are there?”

“Far too many for your little brain to comprehend, mortal.” Loki rudely replies.

“Loki!” Thor chides.

“Okay…I’m going to ignore that.” Dylan says coolly. “Next question…uhh…do all aliens look like…us? Like with two hands and legs…?”

“Loki is blue.” Thor states unconcernedly.

“Uhh…he looks pretty…white from where I’m standi–whoa!”

By the sudden cold that captures the air, you assume that Loki has shifted into his Jotunn form.

“Dude! You’re blue!”

“Still not as tall as a Jotunn though.” Thor remarks, attempting to put cheer in his voice to suppress his shock at seeing his brother in his true form.

“I’m quite fine with this stature, thanks.” Loki snarks back humorlessly, voice further away from you than before.

Nooo. Come back.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” Dylan asks, again trying to break tension between the brothers.

“My touch, it’s harmful in this form.” Loki replies. You hear some beeps and you’re pretty sure that he’s adjusting the thermostat (you’re surprised at how he managed to work that blasted thing when even you can’t work it). “Already, the temperature in this room has decreased. The lower it gets, the closer (Y/N) is to the human condition called, ‘ _Hypothermia_ ’.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

“Chopped liver?” Loki asks, confused, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

You feel Loki’s cold presence a second before a blanket is placed over your body. Then he retreats hastily.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” Dylan replies. “It means, why am I so inconvenient?”

“In that case, your health matters little to me.”

“Harsh.”

There is a small silence, before Thor, who seemed to have been mulling something over, says, “Hypothermia? What does that mean?”

“It’s something that happens when humans get too cold.” Dylan explains kindly, “It starts off with shivering and as it gets worse, the person gets confused and drowsy. If it goes on for long enough…they…um…die…”

A dead silence falls across the room.

Then Thor quietly speaks, “I’ve seen what the touch of a Jotunn could do to an Asgardian. I dread to think of what it could do to a mortal.” At the next silence that follows, Thor says, “Brother, please tell me you’ve not harmed a Midgardian…”

“Other than the incident with that ragtag team of yours, I don’t believe I have.” Loki confirms. Then quickly adds, “Oh and the incident with (Y/N)…”

“Loki…”

“Well Thor, you can take comfort in the fact that you’re not the only one to go for (Y/N)’s neck.”

“Ohhh…so that’s how she got the mark.” Dylan wonders out loud, “I was thinking, wouldn’t the hand be frozen too?”

It takes a second for those words to sink into Thor’s head. When it does, you can hear the anger in his voice when he exclaims, “Loki! You dare lay your hand on a mortal?!”

“I may or may not have lost my temper…?” Loki half states, half asks.

“She said it was her fault.” Dylan says quietly.

“Far from it.” The guilt in Loki’s voice _hurts_. “I…I was in a panic. Hurting her was the last thing I wanted.”

“But you did hurt her.” Thor mutters darkly and if you could punch him in the face without breaking your fingers, you totally would. You don’t want Loki feeling any guiltier than he already does.

“I did.”

“And then you left her.” Dylan adds.

“I did.”

Silence falls across your room once again. Silence that Loki breaks by murmuring, “You’re awake, pet…”

“Pet?” Dylan repeats, bewildered.

You blink your eyes open and find Loki’s icy orbs in your darkened room, “You’re not going to leave, are you?” you ask sleepily.

“Never.” Loki whispers back, putting his cool palm to your forehead.

You hum in approval and lift your hand to gingerly touch your throat. You can feel the skin on your fingertips, but your neck feels nothing. “Okay, who put me on narcotics?” you demand.

Loki and Thor seem to be testing the new word, while Dylan snorts and replies, “Loki did some weird magic that relieves pain…or something.” Then he adds under his breath, “Would have been nice if he gave me the same treatment…”

You glare at Loki (an awkward half-asleep glare), who in turn glares at Dylan, who smirks right back.

Thor laughs jovially.

You yawn and Loki’s hand moves from your forehead to gently carding through your hair. “Go back to sleep, my sweet.” he murmurs.

“Yeah…” you say passively, still too tired to think, “I think that’s a good idea…”

Then you promptly fall back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry. ):

**Author's Note:**

> O.O  
> See you soon!


End file.
